


God Kills, Man Loves

by VoidVesper



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Acrobatics, Closeted Character, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidVesper/pseuds/VoidVesper
Summary: Kurt teaches Sam how to change direction. Inspired by a scene in New Mutants #22.Two consenting adults, and a little sacrilege, sez some. But if you're reading slash fiction I probably wouldn't see you in church anyway. :p





	God Kills, Man Loves

_Our Father_

_Who art in Heaven_

_Hallowed be thy name_

_Thy kingdom come_

_Thy will be done_

_On Earth as it is in heaven_

_Give us this day_

_Our daily bread_

_And forgive us our trespasses_

_As we forgive those who trespass against us_

_And lead us not into temptation_

_But deliver us from evil_

_For thine is the kingdom_

_the power_

_and the glory_

_forever and ever._

"Amen." There's no Baptist church in Westchester County, and so Sam has to make do. He feels a little guilty –fire and brimstone and all –about his makeshift altar –ain't that idolatry? But he hopes the crucifix his grandmomma made from a whittling stick is as good as the big one over the altar in the little church in Cameron County, the tiny shack with the crystal stream running through the back canyon. He remembers the day he waded out in his baptismal robe, and the preacher, voice as thick and drawling as blackstrap asked if he renounced Satan and all his teachings. Sam said yes and the preacher tipped him back. The clear water rushed up over his head, in his ears, nose, eyes. The world went silent, save the echo of blood rushing though his ears. When he rose up again dripping his family was clapping on the riverbank and he could hear the celebratory organ wheezing Hallelujah, far away.

When he was 12 it seemed easy to renounce Satan's hold on you. It was an easy answer to as big a question a mind of that size can manage. Lately it didn't seem so easy. Sam couldn't identify it but there was something nagging at the edge of his selfhood. A knot in the fiber of his being, a speck of grit in his soul that demanded an answer. Sam was cut from the old cloth –a man stands up for his family, speaks the truth, makes sure no one goes hungry, and stays humble to God 's path. Something was challenging that. Something was giving him dreams both appealing and unsettling that he couldn't –or wouldn't –consciously remember, but left his sheets sticky in the morning.

As far as Sam knew, when a man from Caldecott County's got a problem he can't answer, the way through the discomfort is through hard work. That's why he scheduled the early morning training session with Kurt. Keep the body busy and the mind doesn't have time to hurt. He turned the picture of his dad to the wall and shimmied out of the sweatpants he slept in.

"Growin 'like a weed," he sighed to himself. He had gotten too tall for the rest of his clothes- his old New Mutants uniform, with its unstable molecules, was the only thing that fit anymore. He just didn't feel comfortable wearing it now that he was on the main team. At this rate he felt like he would "plumb poke through the ceiling soon", he sighed, smoothing down his flattop in the mirror. It wasn't like him to feel pride, least of all in how he looked, but there was a small secret part that delighted in what he could do with the lean tight muscle that roped around his torso, softly rippling over bone and under skin with purpose and intent. Now maybe if he could start growing some hair on his chest . . .

He strained into a t-shirt that barely fit and, after some debate, put his sleeping sweatpants back on.

......................

The hydraulic lights to the Danger Room whooshed on with a series of booming snaps. Kurt strode in and put his gym bag down in the corner. Sam was two paces behind.

"Guten tag, mein freund." Kurt smiled. He was dressed for work in a white tank top and black sweatpants. His toothy grin was dazzling against his indigo fur. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, something like that." Sam nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Lord, don't be an easy blusher now.

"Good. I hope you are well rested, because I will make sure you will be needing rest again tonight." He lifted up a panel and popped a few buttons. Panels opened in the floor and ceiling and all the accoutrements of a well-equipped gymnasium –pommel horse, rings, parallel bars - swung into place.

Kurt spit into his hands and reached up for the trapeze gracefully lowered in front of him. His hands found their place on the worn tape with expert ease, a muscle memory unfaded for decades. He inhaled sharply and, so quickly it seemed like an illusion, swung his hips up to the bar and over, his tail sweeping a perfect arc behind him, drawing the shape of his seamless circle in the air. He hesitated for a moment, leveling his body flat, the only hint of the tremendous exertion it required the tremble of his wide, muscled wrists and the way his biceps and triceps stood out from the skin. With intense concentration he pushed his flat hips into the air and raised his entire body vertical, balancing every tight fiber of his body on the wavering bar his massive hands gripped. Then with great relief, he swung down at fantastic speed into an arcing dismount. Of course he landed on his feet. A grin crept across his handsome Nordic face. He was enjoying himself.

Sam crossed his hands nervously in front of the crotch of his sweatpants. He cast his eyes down and tried not to think about the thing that was making him sick with guilt. Across the room, or the first time you see him, Kurt looks scarier than hell. But once you get to know him, get to see him up close, hear the easygoing charm of his brand of accented English and sense his incredible charisma . . . well, that 's a whole 'nother story. He's been an acrobat since –well, since about the age Sam was baptized. It's not only that he has the body of a gymnast, all tight and compact and V-shaped, with arms that might need their own zip code –he has the body of a gymnast who's been at this for a very long time. Some of Kurt's muscle memory is older than Sam is. It doesn't need someone to tell it how to behave –it moves itself. Maybe the blue velvet covering Kurt's skin does some of the shading, but Sam can see the finger muscles attaching to Kurt's ribs when he raises his arms. He can see the six-pack flatten and tighten beneath his indigo skin when he pulls his hips up to the trapeze. He can see the sinew in his forearms striate and twitch as he raises his legs to the sky.

Kurt saw the nervous furrow of Sam's brow. "You all right, Sam? Don't worry, I've got easier skills planned for today."

"Yeah, Ah 'm fine. Jest a little nervous ah reckon." God, he's dazzling up close. His eyes really are yellow, the color of the sun at noon. The planes of his jaw, his aquiline nose, the high cheekbones that bespeak the ultimate in Germanic beauty –it 's probably just as well he 's covered in fur, otherwise he 'd be the subject of so much carnal distraction he 'd never get anything done. But it's not really fur, not like a shaggy dog. It's a soft flocking, dense and soft and short to the skin. I bet it's like rubbing velvet to your lips, Sam thinks, and then immediately wonders what the hell he's thinking.

"Don't be. You're perfectly safe. That fear?" Kurt tapped his temple with a thick finger. "All in your head. I have some ideas of what I want you to work on, but I'd like to hear from you what goals you'd like to accomplish."

"Well, sir, ah" Sam croaked, then cleared his throat and started again. "Ah –Ah 'm havin 'trouble while blasting. Ah know ah 'm invulnerable and all, but ah just get too scared to turn. It's too easy to jest go straight and –" He looked into Kurt's eyes and lost focus for a second. "Ah –ah just feel like ah 'm not no good to myself if all ah can do is go straight. Ah'd like to know how to make a change."

"And be able to change directions when you want to."

"Yeah." He swallowed hard. "Something like that. When ah –when ah feel like ah need to."

Kurt grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Wunderbar. It's a piece of cake, mein freund. Physically? Just by looking at you, I can tell you have the strength. The only block is in your mind. You're so used to going straight you don't have sudden turns in your battle plan. The trick is to envision a situation where a turn is necessary –where it's the only way to save yourself. Once it feels right" he shrugged his formidable shoulders "the change becomes easy."

"Ah sure hope so," Sam muttered to himself.

"Let's get you up on the trapeze, Sam. I have an idea of where to start." Kurt flicked the panel open again and turned a dial. The trapeze bar raised another two feet in the air. "You're a bit taller, nicht wahr? This height will be easier for a beginner. Place your hands where the tape is, about 3 fists apart. I want you to swing back and forth, body straight. I'll give you a push." Sam felt Kurt's hand at the small of his back. The warmth of his skin burned through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the friction burn of his tender palms against the tape.

"I want you to start feeling the momentum of your swing. Push . . . and pull. Push . . . and pull. Feel the apex of the swing. It's in your hips, right? Your hips ride the highest. Pull back with your abs. That's what raises them in the back. That's what gives you the momentum to go forward. Back –"Kurt's hands locked around Sam's hips and gave him a little push – "–and forth."

If Sam wasn't blushing earlier, he knew he was now. Kurt's palms, his strong hands, his thumbs pressing into the small of his back, right on the two dimples at the base of his spine, felt so good. He swallowed hard. "Come on, Guthrie," he thought to himself. "This ain 't right. Come on. Focus on what you're doing."

"I want you to carry this feeling with you, Sam." Kurt said. "This feeling when you hit the top point of your swing? That's going to be the start of the turn. When you're in the air, blasting, I want you to move you r hips up –" he pressed again, and Sam's face burned again, "- and let the rest of your body follow. The hips lead. If you get your hips going, the rest is easy."

Sam started hyperventilating. This was too much. He dropped the trapeze and stood, his chin tucked to his chest. So many feelings swirled inside him. Shame, hate, guilt, pain . . . pleasure. Joy. Freedom. Is this what the preacher meant? About how Satan's works would tempt him? How Satan is a master of disguises and is his strongest in the guise of a kind face? Of a pleasurable sensation? When he was 12, he made a promise. How could that 12 year old know what real temptation is? How could a child make a promise, in front of God and everyone, for a man to keep, forever?

"Is something wrong, Sam?" Kurt asked, his voice turned up in confusion.

"Ah –ah can 't." Sam couldn't turn back to look at Kurt. He ran, his bare feet hitting the metal floor hard. He ran out of the room, he ran until his lungs hurt, until he tasted blood in his throat. He slammed the double doors open and as soon as he saw the patch of blue above he leaped and

FVOOOOOM

triggered the biochemical pilot light that rocketed him into the sky. Up towards heaven.

The earth below him fell away as he rocketed straight, in the unblinking path up that was the only direction he knew. Tears wet his face and he gritted his teeth and zoomed extra fast so the windspeed would dry his face.

..............................

Kurt found him, hours later, on the roof of the school. The sun was setting, gilding the landscape with molten light. Sam was there, staring in the sun, chin on his hand, bent over deep in melancholic concentration. Kurt could see the quiver at the corners of Sam's downturned mouth. It doesn't take an empathic mutation to sense a person's real pain.

"Sam," Kurt laid a hand on his shoulder. he could feel Sam simultaneously relax and pull away under his touch. "What's going on?"

"Nuthin '."

"Mm –hmm." Kurt circled around and sat down next to him. "Mind if I sit and watch the sunset with you, Sam? It's one of my favorite phenomena. To think, how much tickets would cost if there was only one sunset in the history of mankind."

Sam said nothing, but didn't object. Kurt stretched out his legs and leaned back on his arms. They sat together in the growing dusk in silence.

Then Kurt spoke up. "Sam, I know something is bothering you terribly. If now is not the time to talk about it, I understand. But I would hate to think of you carrying this burden alone. Is there something in particular that is making you worry so?"

Sam looked over at Kurt. He couldn't look in his eyes, and so his gaze wandered down to the hollow of his collarbone. A medal,dancing in the golden light. He knew Kurt was a Catholic. He squinted and caught the edge of an embossed portrait.

"What's your medal of?" he asked.

Kurt took the slim wafer of silver between his immense fingers. "This? This is just a holy medallion. See, Jesus Christ on one side, and on the other –" he turned it over in his fingers –"Ego Sum Via Et Veritas Et Vita. Latin. From the old Mass. It means "I am the way, the truth, and the life." It 's just a reminder. To keep me behaving like Christ would."

Sam snorted, softly. "Yeah, ah think ah need a reminder like that."

"How so?"

"Do you ever –ah mean, maybe not literally, but – do you ever feel like Satan's tempting your soul? Like he's put you in a corner and you can 't get out?"

Kurt sighed, and took a deep breath. "I don't know about your tradition, Sam, but I've always felt –and this is only my opinion, not the Catholic Church's, that God 's love is so great it pales in comparison to anything the Devil can throw at us. We're human, Sam. We were created that way. Imperfect, flawed. God knows that. I think the important thing is to try hard, and, when we know we've done wrong, to graciously accept God's forgiveness –because that's eternal, too."

Sam felt a twinge in his chest, a release of some tremendous squeeze. He took a deep breath. "Ah dunno –ah feel like there's been some things lately that I know God can 't forgive."

"Things you've done?"

"Naw." He exhaled shakily. "Maybe some things I am."

"Like what?"

Sam swallowed hard. "Ah don't know . . . Ah don 't know if ah can tell you." He looked over at Kurt, sprawled out in the sun. The light slid down the front of his chest, little half-moons of shadow writing out the edges of the start and stop of muscle. It hurt so much to look at him. The secret feeling he'd been hiding from was starting to flutter in his chest, like a bird in a tight space ready to be free.

"I think, Sam," Kurt said, "knowing you, and what a decent man you've become in the years I've known you, that there is nothing God has made in you that could be evil."

The bird broke free from his heart and leapt into the sky. Sam's body flooded with joy. The dizzying feeling was upon him, free and unfettered. Sheer relief swam through his bloodstream, making every baby fine hair on the surface of his skin a hungry antenna for touch. He exhaled deep in relief and tears came to his eyes.

"Thank you, Kurt." he choked into his hand. "Lord, thank you."

"Shh, it's all right." Kurt laid an arm over Sam's shoulders. Sam could feel the soft weight of heavy muscle at rest, could feel the brush of velvet and the hot radiance of the skin underneath. Something jumped in his groin. Just the closeness, the proximity of Kurt's heartbeat pumping the warm blood under the skin touching skin made his body glow with arousal. His lips parted and he felt the pull, in total disbelief

_It's happening_

_It's happening_

_I 'm going to do it_

He looked up, his face inches from Kurt 's. Close enough to feel the aura of his personal space. Close enough to reach in

_and do it_

_Lord help me_

_and touch_

_my mouth_

_to his lips_

Kurt jumped in disbelief as Sam sealed his mouth over his. He fell back in surprise but Sam followed him down and grabbed the back of his head, pressing him tight. Sam's lips were soft, powerful. He reached out his tongue and dragged it across the point of Kurt's canine teeth, taking big hungry mouthfuls of Kurt 's astonished mouth.

_This feels so right_

_So amazing_

_My Lord_

Sam broke free and gasping, came up for air. He looked at Kurt beneath him, stretched out on his back, pelvis pressed to pelvis, stomachs close enough to feel each other's heat, faces close enough to feel each other 's hot breath. Kurt had an expression of total shock.

_My Lord_

_What have I done?_

Sam scanned Kurt 's face anxiously. Lord, that beautiful face –if he'd done anything to upset him, oh God . . . .

Kurt looked back up at him. His tail hung in the air, ramrod straight and frozen in surprise. Sam gulped and gasped. He could feel his erection pressing up against Kurt's crotch

_god that felt good_

He looked down at where their hips met. A gap of indigo skin showed between Kurt's sweatpants and tank top. Sam could see the muscle laying flat under his navel. Of their own volition, his hands reached out and stroked the tender rim of flesh with the meat of his thumb, grabbing onto Kurt's hip. He could feel where the muscle met the bone ridge of his narrow pelvis. He grabbed his hips and buried his face in Kurt's neck and to his incredible surprise felt two heavy hands reach up and tenderly touch his own waist.

He was grinding now –he couldn't help it, his hard dick was following its own set of instructions –and as he pressed his body into Kurt 's he ran his tongue over to the tender spot behind the ear and sucked and he thought he heard a gasp _God it felt so good_ so amazingly right the flesh beneath him was nothing like a girl 's, it had a power, a solidity that no girl could match, it could touch him in a way that no girl 's flesh could touch, it sang back to him in a hard musky frequency all its own

He looked up and met Kurt 's gaze. Kurt was panting now, mouth parted, incisors peeking out against blue skin turning velvet black in the dusk, eyes on fire, boring into Sam 's head.

A wave of shame washed over Sam. "Ah 'm sorry . . ah . . . ah don 't know what ah 'm doing."

Kurt swallowed hard. "I don't know either," he whispered hoarsely. "I just . . . you're a beautiful young man, Sam. Let me look at you."

Fingers found the edge of Sam's T-shirt. X-ed arms criss-crossed over his head, revealing Sam 's hard lean chest, clumsy and gawky and with room to grow. A boy on the edge of a man. Kurt ran his fingers over Sam's barely-there ribs and Sam shuddered with the tickle.

"Your turn." Sam slid his palms under Kurt's back. Loosened the edge of his tank top. Kurt wiggled his hips up, pulling his shirt free over his head. He tossed it aside and lay back, his stomach rising and falling in excited breath. My God, the man was – perfect. Years of discipline and rigorous training had honed his body to nothing but lean muscle, tight in anticipation of action. Sam ran his hands down his chest, feeling the nub of his hard nipple hidden in the velvet, sliding his palms over the muscle that twitched under his touch. He reached up and drew an exploratory finger around Kurt's nipples. He felt a surge in Kurt's groin, pressed up against his own.

"Ah want to kiss you again," he said.

"As do I." Open mouths, wet and ready, an airlock of shared breath sealed in place. This time tongues reached out, unafraid, and ran over gums, teeth, slid themselves over each other, lips kissed and released and resealed, strong and hungry. Kurt 's mouth reached up to meet him, his body making a tight semi-circle rising off the ground, abs contracted, hands reaching up to grab shoulders and pull him down. Sam felt a tail slide up and down the crack of his ass, wrap the inside of his thigh. He was so hard now, the fleece of his sweatpants soft against his dick, grinding into Kurt 's crotch, finding the hard groove of Kurt 's erection against his.

He was up on his elbows now, his thumbs rolling over Kurt's nipples _could he suck them? Would he like that?_ Watching Kurt moan softly and feeling his sharp inhale every time his thumb made another revolution. Without thought Sam lowered his head and pressed his mouth onto Kurt's right nipple _hell, they 're blue too_ and kissed the hard tip. His tongue lapped around the aureole, brushing a hundred tiny hairs, swirling them into a wet indigo crop circle. Kurt gasped sharply when he bit him, teeth dancing on the flesh. He buried his face into his sternum, hands crawling south, thumb sneaking over the edge of Kurt's waistband, drawing lazy strokes just over the edge, fingers sliding behind and ruffling the fur just below the small of his back, feeling the dimples braced by the solid fast-twitch architecture of a spine immune to back trouble.

Sam was shaking with excitement. Or shame. Or terror. Or the garden-variety nervousness of virgins. Kurt ran his palms over his back, stroked the nape of his neck, kissed his forehead.

"It's all right, this is the first time I've done this too." He rolled over to his side, turning Sam with him. They were face to face, lying on their sides, lips millimeters from lips.

"There's so much ah want to do," Sam gulped. "Ah jest don't know . . ."

"It 's OK." Kurt whispered. "What you want doesn't scare me." He looked him in the eye. "I 'm ready. . . . do what you want."

Sam couldn't even think it without blushing, let alone say it. Mutely, red-faced, he took Kurt's hand and pressed it to the outside of his crotch. Kurt took the cue and slid his hands under the waistband. Sam gasped as he felt the tickle through his pubic hair and then the

_oh my god oh my sweet jesus_

the rush of pleasure as Kurt ran his palm up against the pulsing underside of his cock, right up on the sweet spot, right under the ridge, his fingers trailing up and then diving down again to grab his balls. Sam 's eyes fluttered into the backs of their sockets as Kurt pulled his face close again and gave him a kiss deep enough to swim in.

"OK?" he whispered.

Sam couldn't answer, he was swept away on a tide of total ecstatic dissolution. He could only crane his head back in pleasure, only to have Kurt kiss the underside of his throat and make him swoon even more.

"Oh, God, yeah, oh – stop!" He jerked back from Kurt's hand, panting for breath.

Kurt looked at him in concern. "Ah 'm sorry," Sam panted. "Ah was just gonna . . . you know . . ."

Kurt 's grin turned up, showing dazzling teeth. "Ja, that's right, I forgot, you're still young."

"Yeah." Sam said, swallowing hard. "Ah 'm sorry. I just wanted it to last." He panted hard a few times, then caught his breath. "Ah just want to, you know . . . do some other things."

"Before it's all over," Kurt smiled.

"Yeah," Sam grinned, shyly. "Ah do."

Kurt 's hands crept around the small of Sam 's back and slid down his pants to cup his ass, creeping his waistband down further. "You tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered. Sam nodded mutely in agreement.

Kurt kissed the edge of Sam's collarbone, dragged his tongue down the center of his torso, down the gulley where the muscle splits, down to bury his tongue in Sam's navel. Sam's jaw trembled with excitement. Kurt had found the tiny trail of blondish hair inching down his belly, was planting small kisses down its length, the soft underside of his chin bumping against the swollen head of Sam's ready cock. It only took a gentle nudge from Kurt's teeth for the waistband of his sweatpants to slip off. A glistening trail of pre-cum smeared in a silver streak on the fur under Kurt's chin.

A wave of shame rushed over Sam, the very idea of having another man 's face so close to his erect cock, standing stiffly up and ready in the waning daylight, thumping slightly in time to his excited pulse. It felt so wrong –and so amazingly right at the same time. Kurt buried one last kiss in his pubic hair, then opened his mouth and bluntly dragged the inside of his lower lip up the edge of Sam's cock. Sam thought he would melt into the floor. Then Kurt's mouth slipped open and swallowed him whole and Sam had to claw at the ground behind him to keep his sanity. Kurt dragged his tongue around the edge of the ridge in thick wet circles and Sam involuntarily moaned out loud, sinking his fingers into Kurt's hair and pushing his head closer. He could feel the tip of his cock rise up to the back of Kurt 's throat, sink into a wet velvet space of infinite folds of warmth, making his neurons fire with synaptic ecstasy. He bit his lip but that wasn't enough . . . to stop it . . .

A thump and a shudder and he could feel the incredible shoot, the utter release, Kurt's mouth filling up sticky _with me,_ he thought with a blush as uncut pleasure rushed through every nerve, Kurt 's mouth sucking on straight through every spasm, kneading out each last drop. Swallowing hard, dick still in his mouth. Taking one last lingering suck, licking up the remnants with tender care. A glistening thread spun between Sam's dick and the tip of Kurt's tongue, and drew out thin before it snapped.

Before he had come back down to earth, before he could consciously fight what was going on he felt the soft push against his own mouth and without thinking he opened wide and took him in _my god, he 's furry all over_ the plush drag of Kurt 's cock in his mouth like a cat 's tongue. Kurt's hands wrapped around the back of his head, pushing him deeper. Sam opened up his mouth, relaxed his jaw. He could feel the throb of Kurt's pulse when he pressed his tongue to the underside of his dick. What was he supposed to do? Part of him wanted to just savor the sensation of another man's cock in his mouth, but he was a man of honor –he wanted to repay the favor. What did he like? He pulled back, withdrew Kurt's dick from his mouth, and took a good look. Totally different from his own – not massive, but wide, and with a voluminous head, all covered in that blue fur that covered Kurt 's body – maybe slightly more silky, more like the soft hairs on a woman 's cheek than the dense velvet elsewhere. A pearl of pre-cum, pooling at the tip like a pearl. Sam took an experimental lick. Clear, maybe salty. Sweet. And, to his relief, good. Almost intoxicating He lapped at the head again and Kurt gave a low moan.

Sam curled his head close to Kurt's belly and opened his mouth again. He liked this. His forehead, pressed against Kurt 's warm belly, this living cock _god I can 't believe it_ rolling in his mouth, this delicious kiss, the drag of fur on the wet flesh of his tongue, the occasional bump up against the back of his throat – it felt so good, the suck, the drag on his lips, how he could roll his tongue around the ridge and feel Kurt suck in air through his teeth every time he rounded that little hard knot under the skin right under the tip of the head, how it felt like Kurt was getting harder and harder, how his balls tightened and . . .

"Mein gott . . ." Kurt gasped.

Sam panicked for an instant –how much was he going to shoot? Would it hurt? Would he gag? but Kurt got so hard his cock strained against Sam 's lips and all of a sudden Sam 's mouth was filled with a warm gush, like a yolk breaking, a thick sweet musky fluid that stuck to his teeth. He summoned his courage and swallowed hard. Kurt's offering coated his throat like a thick syrup and he caught the hint of bitter as it washed over the back of his tongue and hit his stomach like a ball of metal. Sam coughed and swallowed again. That was it. He had tasted it. No turning back now. No pretending about what might or might not have happened. He had swallowed. And he liked it. It was good. It felt solid in his belly. The thought of the same solid feeling in Kurt – and how it got there – gave him a rush of liberation.

As weakly as a puppy seeking out its mother, Sam crawled up close to Kurt and pressed his face into the hollow of his neck. He exhaled deep and Kurt did the same. Twilight was coming to an end. A thousand stars lit the sky above, tiny pinpricks in God's planetarium. Sam 's eyes were heavy, and as his breath slowed to the pace of sleep his mind flashed to a shred of the bedtime prayer his sister said each night as a child in the Appalachian stillness

_God made the water_

_God made the wood_

_God made all things_

_true and good_

_And if God made_

_things good and true_

_Don 't y'all forget_

_how God made you._

_Amen._


End file.
